Page 38 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

He sighed, but he handed his injured right hand over. Nore spread the antiseptic ointment on his palm and then wrapped his hand in gauze. It was a relief that Celestine had not taken another finger—she’d only just gotten over the agony on Caspian’s face, the sound of the blade cutting, of flesh falling, of bone severing.

She imagined he probably still had those nightmares. Or maybe his were more deeply personal. Maybe in his nightmares, his hands were still covered in her blood.

Though she had maimed him herself in some way, she had not been the one to wield the blade; she did not have that on her conscience, unlike Caspian.

“Which finger would you have taken this time?” Caspian asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I thought we weren’t talking about the past.”

“That’s a perfectly logical question for the future,” he murmured, bringing his wrapped hand back. He rolled onto his side, cradling his hands to his chest. He always used to sleep on his side; most nights, Nore had slept with her back pressed against his stomach, his arm draped over her.

She got up now, moving to the chair. “I would’ve asked for your life,” she said. I already have. It is already mine.

You should’ve known better than to enter into a bargain with me.

His eyes were fully shut, his breath already evening. “So you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Yes,” she whispered as she watched him relax into sleep. “I think I have.”

Later, once she’d read more and facilitated the collection of the bath, a conundrum faced her. Nore would not sleep on the floor, but the idea of crawling into bed with Caspian was… terrifying. Terrifying, and out of the question.

But she had to sleep. There was only a day or so left between them and Idistra, and who knew how much she’d be able to sleep then?

She changed her clothes as she fought with herself, switching from her shirt and trousers to a soft shift and thick socks. She watched the rise and fall of Caspian’s chest as she braided her hair. In the end, there really was no alternative.

Nore double-checked the door and the key. If Caspian escaped, there was nowhere he could run, which eased her mind—but she didn’t like the idea of him running amok on the ship. He was charismatic, when he wanted to be, and well-liked by just about everyone who wasn’t her. If he was able to speak to the crew, there was the possibility that someone would agree to let him access a dinghy or smuggle him away when they reached the port.

But she was getting ahead of herself. Nore shifted her weight, arms crossed over her chest, frowning.

Caspian sighed, rolling onto his back. His eyes opened a crack. “Come to bed, Finch,” he murmured. “You’re inhibiting my recovery, standing there like that.”

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“The sheer force of your thoughts woke me up.”

“Asshole,” Nore murmured under her breath.

Caspian rolled over, vacating the side closer to the door, and Nore was annoyingly grateful for it. She lifted the blankets, slipping into the warm space he’d left behind. He was already back asleep, his back to her, his breath low and even.

Nore rolled onto her side, staring at the back of his neck. She knew the contours of it by heart, just as she knew every other part of him: the knob of his spine, the curls at the nape of his neck, the line of his trapezius. His wants and desires, the things he loved and hated, the expression he made when he was in anguish, the color of his eyes after he cried, the noise he made as he lost himself to pleasure.

All of it. She knew every single bit of him, and yet she had never in her life felt more betrayed and estranged.

It took longer than usual for sleep to find her.

Nestrian dynasty: House Teineck, 87 years

Eprainish dynasty: House Aurelian, 103 years

Scaelan dynasty: House Torrin, 315 years (NG: Scaelan High Family diverted for a Lindle marriage approx. 65 years ago. Potential for allies.)

Stratan dynasty: House Naudè, 54 years (NG: Stratan dynasty does not seem to follow direct hereditary inheritance as strictly as other nations; to investigate)

Luthrite dynasty: House Picantor, 18 years (NG: Why the recent succession? Linked to war?)

Lochan dynasty: House Locke, unknown, estimated 1,200 years (NG: This seems unlikely at best and impossible at worst, but lore and intelligence suggest it is true. Requires further investigation.)

Nore Gordon’s notes, decoded, 1636 UCE